


deja vu

by sinelanguage



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, s2e14 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinelanguage/pseuds/sinelanguage
Summary: Molly learns a new blood curse and doesn't take to it well.





	deja vu

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to carv, for betaing this for me!

Mollymauk really knew how to fill space with noise.

When the Nein had arrived at the tavern, dead tired from their latest escapade, it was quiet, in the way dingy taverns should be. A couple of skittish eyes darted toward them as they had entered, and the room briefly stalled before returning to a pleasant equilibrium of strangers ignoring each other in their own quiet conversations. It was ideal; Caleb could claim a back-end table for the group and mull over what the fuck had just happened without any prying eyes. 

And yet, Molly had brought the prying eyes to them. He really knew how to fill a space well, drawing attention of even the most reticent of patron’s curiosity, with some extravagant tarot reading. He’d even gotten Jester involved as well with well-timed thaumaturgy, introducing even more cacophony to the room. The tavern couldn’t stay a dingy tavern for long, not with Molly spinning stories.

Ordinarily, Caleb would keep an eye on it, or if he was finding it particularly intolerable, leave them to their bullshit and head upstairs, but not after Molly’s latest stunt. Molly had been so frazzled after the battle, but now he could entertain a tavern of introverted people drinking alone. It was disconcerting, and if he was being honest, concerning.

Caleb wasn’t sure what to do with concern. 

It wasn’t until Jester left that Caleb did anything with it. The tavern was settling, Molly’s presence lessening as patrons became satisfied, or bored, or too drunk to pay attention anymore. When the latest of the guests at Molly’s table left, Caleb picked up his drink with some trepidation and headed over. 

“Ah, Caleb! So, you finally decided to give tarot readings a shot,” said Molly. He’d been shuffling the deck all night, the act second nature to him; he hadn’t stopped moving his hands since they’d gotten inside. 

Caleb set his glass down on the table, the beer slopping out the side. He probably needed to tread lightly here-- he wasn’t one to get into emotional conversations unless it was necessary, and he didn’t really know what it required. 

“No, I meant to ask you about that last fight,” Caleb started, not giving space for pause, and Molly peered. “Beauregard had taken down that death dog, but before it went out, it-- it attacked the others.” From the way Molly had reacted then, and the way Molly reacted now, it had to be him. “I did not know you could do that.”

Molly snorted. “Not one for beating around the bush, are you,” he said, and he stopped shuffling his cards. “Well, I didn’t know I could do that, either.”

He leaned forward, the closeness purposefully intimidating. “Are you scared of it?” Molly asked, and Caleb looked away. 

“No, no, that was not what I meant,” Caleb said, trying to course correct the conversation back to Molly. “It is rather-- impressive. Useful. We fight enough dangerous things. It is good to be able to turn that around.”

“Practical,” said Molly, and he smiled, apparently pleased with the response. Caleb didn’t know if Molly was pleased or bullshitting him. “Maybe I can set that manticore head on someone now, finally find a use for it.”

As Molly took a swig of his own drink, Caleb watched as the glass shook in his hands. He set it back down, careful enough for nothing to spill out. 

Maybe Molly was afraid of it. Maybe that’s why he’d asked Caleb if he was afraid. 

Caleb had started the conversation, but he didn’t know how to continue it. He should continue it, but words ran off Molly like water off a duck’s back, and Caleb didn’t know how to delicately pry for information. Luckily, as he took a drink to hide the stilted silence, Molly continued without prompting.

“It’s new to me, but I felt like-- it was like deja vu,” Molly said. “You’ve had deja vu before, right?”

Caleb shook his head. “I have a very good memory,” he said. Molly laughed, but it sounded harsh.

“Right. Well, it felt familiar, like it’d happened before, like I’d already lived it, but it hadn’t,” Molly said. He added sharply, “If it had happened before-- well, it didn’t happen to me.”

If Molly’s past was why his hand was shaking, that would be simple; they’d had this conversation before. Whoever Molly was before wasn’t who he was now, and Caleb believed him, but Molly still made a show of ignoring it.

Molly took another drink, a bit of it spilling onto his still-shaky hand. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said, trying to ease himself out of conversation. “It’s practical, and--”

“You are trying to bullshit yourself,” Caleb interrupted. “I do not think it's working.”

Molly lashed his tail under the table, and Caleb felt the tip of it hit his ankles. “I like my bullshit,” Molly paused, collecting himself. “My past means nothing to me. That’s not-- I told you, that’s not who I am. Whatever powers he had are mine now, but however he came to them-- I don’t need to know anything about that.”

Caleb leaned forward, trying to mimic Molly’s previous intimidation, even if it wasn’t as effective. “But you do now,” he said. 

“Yes, and it doesn’t matter,” Molly said, leaning away and crossing his arms defensively. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Caleb was certain he was afraid now; he understood what Molly was running from, even though he didn’t have the words to admit it. They were both running from something, Caleb just had an inkling of what it was. And as much as he’d like to forget his own history-- well, he wasn’t sure if he envied the other side of the coin.

“It is fine to be scared. I am scared shitless,” he started, only briefly meeting Molly’s eyes. “I am always scared shitless of what I-- of the same thing, who I was, and I still,” Caleb took a sharp intake of breath, trying to find the words, but he didn’t know how to explain. “I do not have the-- same second start, but I--”

He caught a glimpse as Molly’s face softened, just a bit, relaxing from his defensive expression.

“I will not judge you for being scared of it,” Caleb concluded. “But it-- you cannot pretend like it does not exist.”

“Of course I can,” Molly replied. 

He could, but that wouldn’t make things better. Caleb looked into his own drink, the drink still reaching shamefully close to the top of the tankard. “It would probably better for you. To get it off your chest,” Caleb said. 

Molly looked at him-- scrutinized him-- then sighed. “It felt like I’d done it before. I’ve done plenty of things I’ve felt like I’ve done before, but that-- that was very exciting,” he paused. “The previous person with this body was-- ecstatic, about that one.”

Molly took another drink. “I don’t think he was a very good person,” he said, simply, and set the drink down. Some of it spilled over the edge, and he didn’t make an effort to hide it. “I don’t want that to matter, but...”

It did matter. Caleb knew, but he hadn’t found any words that could bring any real comfort. He could try, though, and he set a hand on Molly’s shoulder, squeezing slightly before taking it away. It wasn’t much contact, but it would have to work for now.

“Well, thanks for… thanks.” Molly started, something catching in his throat. He moved toward his drink, the tankard almost empty. “A toast. To second starts and being scared shitless.”

Caleb huffed, and clanked his tankard against Molly’s. “I can toast to that,” he said, and Molly smiled. The conversation between them settled into a comfortable silence and then, slowly, the tavern lulled to the quiet it should’ve been in the first place.


End file.
